


Saved

by Xrangel



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Death, Drama, Edge - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Meta, Not A Fix-It, Time Loop, Time Travel, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xrangel/pseuds/Xrangel
Summary: No matter how they prevail. No matter how they die. No matter who they save. No matter who they kill. No matter how their quest ends.They always return.
Comments: 47
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is just me testing the waters. I want to see how good/bad this turns out since it's my first time trying to write for Hollow Knight. Sorry if there are any mistakes in the canon that I make.

Pain.

The burning pain of the infection filled every part of their body. Once they had started to absorb the noxious clouds of orange from the defeated Hollow Knight, they found themselves unable to stop. 

They felt the thoughts of the Hollow Knight. They felt how badly they wanted to live up to the Pale King's expectations. They felt the dread that they had felt as they were sealed in the temple. They felt the Hollow Knight's despair, grief, and pain, so much pain. It filled every inch of the Knight's once empty mind.

Was this how it felt? To have thoughts, to have emotions?

More and more of the infection seeps into the Knight's void body. Out of the corner of their eye, they see Hornet. Their sibling. All at once, regret and sorrow seeps into them. They couldn't even tell if she was alive. While they were fighting the Hollow Knight, Hornet's interference had been nothing more to them but a convenient assist. They didn't know why Hornet had decided to help them, especially when she explicitly mentioned that doing so would put her life at risk. 

It didn’t really matter either, at least not to them. The Knight had simply charged up a cyclone slash and rained several heavy blows upon the Hollow Knight’s back. After that, Hornet was tossed aside; That didn’t matter either. The Knight only had one goal in mind. Even if they did not understand their goal, they would still fulfill it, as that was what they were made to do.

If it did not matter, then why did it hurt so much to see her like this? With her needle laying on the ground, next to her lifeless body?

It hurt. It hurt more than the blazing infection merging with their soul and void.

They heard the Grimmchild squeal as it flew around in alarm. A large chain link fell from the ceiling and collided with it in midair. It fell from the air and landed next to the Knight. It gave off a weak snarl before closing its eyes.

_'Stop.'_

That was the only thought that the Knight could muster. It was the first thought that they had created entirely on their own. More than anything, they wanted to stop absorbing the Hollow Knight’s infection, stop feeling these _things_.

But that wasn’t possible.

They heard a scream. It came from inside of their own head.

The Hollow Knight collapsed in front of them. All traces of orange had vanished from their mask, leaving behind only dark sockets with nothing behind them - not even void.The Knight themselves wanted to collapse as well, but they couldn’t. Their body wouldn’t let them.

Orange tinted their vision, and everything seemed too bright. Chains appeared around them. Only then did the Knight truly realise their fate. 

It was too late. Far too late.

The sickening orange glow in their eyes kept intensifying until eventually, it was all that they could see.

* * *

The Knight looked up, and was met with an endless dark void.

Then it looked around. A broken, hollow black egg sat to their right. A glowing sigil with a few lines of text was on their left. When they looked down, they saw that they were resting on the bench just outside of the Hollow Knight’s room. The Grimmchild was sleeping next to the bench, wings wrapped around itself like a blanket.

Perhaps ‘bench’ wasn’t the right word for it though - while comfortable enough to rest on, it seemed to just be a solid piece of rock that was only shaped to crudely resemble a bench.

For a moment, they just sat there, looking at the Grimmchild. The pain of the infection and the orange glow in their eyes had vanished completely. Only the thoughts of the Hollow Knight lingered in their mind, and even those were growing faint. 

They were sealed forever inside of the temple, along with Hornet and the Hollow Knight. But now, they could see that that was no longer the case. They only needed a single glance to see the ominous clouds of infection coming from the Hollow Knight’s chamber, and another glance behind them to see a faint light coming from the exit.

Slowly, they reached down and put their hands around the Grimmchild. It suddenly awoke, head shooting up in surprise, but once it saw the Knight, it slowly lowered its head again. As gently as they could, the Knight lifted the Grimmchild up and stared at him with wonder. No more than a minute or two ago, it was knocked out by a piece of debris that probably weighed more than itself. But now here it was, lazing about like nothing had even happened.

 _'Warm.'_ The Knight thought. The body of the Grimmchild was warm, almost enough so that it was uncomfortable holding him. Almost. They gently placed him down next to them on the bench before pausing and looked down at their own hands, which were trembling.

A thought. They had just made a second thought, and they almost didn’t realize it. Before they could even get over their own surprise, a third thought came to mind. _'Hornet'_. The Knight took off the Grimmchild charm, causing it to vanish into thin air. Worry and fear began to creep into its mind, which was only kept at bay from the fact that the Knight had seen this happen before. The Grimmchild would be fine when they put the charm back on. For now however, the Knight didn’t want to interrupt its sleep.

The Knight jumped down from the bench so suddenly that they stumbled for a few steps and nearly fell over. As they recovered, they began to sprint out of the temple with an uncharacteristic sense of urgency.

As the Knight approached the exit, they felt a jolt run through them. There, just ahead of them, was the figure of their sister. They charged forward with renowned vigor until finally, they found themself out of the temple. 

Hornet, having heard their approach, turned around and looked at them with surprise. “Back so soon, little ghost?”

The Knight only stared at her in awe. She was fine, as fine as the Grimmchild. Why? What had happened? Perhaps this was all just a dream, an illusion created within himself. Maybe right now, they were actually chained up inside of the temple with their body slowly corroding from the infection and this was just something that their fragmented mind had created.

Hornet tilted her head. “Is there something you need? I’ve already told you that I won’t join you in your fight.”

It felt like something was crushing them. The room spun around them as an indescribable feeling rose in the Knight’s chest. All of the sudden, they felt like they were back inside of the Hollow Knight’s chamber, absorbing the infection from their broken body. Only this time, there was no pain. Only some strange mixture of anguish and relief that was entirely too heavy for them to bear.

Suddenly, Hornet took a step forward. “You… Ghost…? Are you… crying?”

Black, viscous void seeped out of their mask’s sockets. They staggered forward until they were right in front of Hornet. Even with her right there, it still seemed unbelievable. 

They had seen so much death, so much destruction, so much despair, and some of it was caused by their own hand. Quirrel’s nail, stuck on the shores of the Blue Lake. The Nailsmith’s body, falling lifelessly into the waters of the City of Tears. The thousands of husks lying around in the Forgotten Crossroads.

None of it had mattered. The Knight had just moved past these tragedies without any pause.

So why _now?_

Why was it now that it felt like their soul was being ripped into shreds?

It was too much.

Silently, the Knight fell to the floor. It felt like too much effort to move. In their mind, scenes were being replayed on loop, overlapping one-another. The Hollow Knight’s almost pathetic body, being dragged around to fight for the infection, and their screams of pain as they stabbed themselves. Tiso’s lifeless body, laying on the grounds of Kingdom’s Edge, deprived of his confidence and slain in a meaningless fight. Cloth being impaled by the Traitor Lord and becoming no more than a remnant of a dream, one sent away by the Dream Nail. Myla succumbing to the infection before falling to the Knight’s own blade.

All of it.

Somewhere, far away, they could hear Hornet saying something in what sounded like alarm.

They couldn’t make out her words.


	2. Chapter 2

Hornet watched as the Knight slept peacefully. Or at least, she thought that they were at peace. It was rather hard to tell, given that their expression never changes. For all she knew, they could be plagued with nightmares. In fact, it was probably more likely that they _were_ at unease.

So what should she do? Wake them up? Hornet had never been in a situation like this before, and it was quite irritating. She would much rather slap the Knight awake and have them tell her what happened inside of the temple. Of course, that wouldn’t really be a wise choice. For one, they couldn’t even speak. Secondly, she wasn’t even sure if they would tell her, even if they could.

“Little ghost… What did you see?” Hornet muttered quietly. 

_*knock knock*_

Hornet jumped and looked at the door. After a moment of hesitation, she grabbed her needle and moved to open the door. She slowly creaked it open, ready for whatever could be waiting for her on the other side.

Of course, there wasn’t anything threatening at all. In fact, it's likely that there wasn't _anything_ in this run-down town that could threaten her.

“Erm, hello.” Elderbug said. “Are you two doing all right in there?”

Hornet sighed and opened the door fully. She had been on the surface only a few times in her life, and nothing dangerous had ever appeared, even at the peak of the infection. Still though, she didn’t want to take any risks, not with the Knight unconscious. 

After they collapsed in the Temple of the Black Egg, Hornet decided to take them up to the town on the surface. She hadn’t heard very much of the town, only that it was apparently fading, whatever that meant. Given their proximity to the town, it was her safest bet. Normally, she wouldn’t interfere with the potential death of a bug or vessel - she was burdened with the protection of the ruins, not the scavengers and travelers who lived within it.

But this one was different. This one had been marked with the Kingbrand. This one was united with the Abyss. And as loathe as she was to admit it, this one was more capable than even herself. She thought that she knew what was waiting for the Knight in the temple. But for it to retreat from its depths after only a few minutes, and passing out at her feet…

Just what kind of unbridled horrors were laying in the Black Vault?

“Is there something the matter?”

Hornet blinked. “Ah… I was just wrapped up in my own thoughts. The ghost is fine, though still unconscious.” Elderbug had been kind enough to lend her an empty house, though even if he was unwilling, she would have just taken one with force.

“Ghost?” Elderbug repeated. “Ah, so that’s their name? They hadn’t ever spoken to me, much less told their name. I’ve been calling them by the title of traveller.”

“I suppose you could call it a nickname.” Hornet said. She glanced back at the Knight. They hadn’t moved a single inch since she had laid them on the bed. “I doubt that they would possess a legitimate name.”

“Do you… know them?” He asked.

“... They are my sibling.” 

“Hm, there is a resemblance.” Elderbug said, looking back and forth between the two. “I don’t suppose that there’s a reason why they don’t have a name?”

“While I appreciate your hospitality, I don’t see any reason to say anything more on this matter.” Hornet said flatly. 

Elderbug nodded. “I apologize; I’m usually not as nosy. It’s just that ever since they have arrived, this town has begun to repopulate once more. They even managed to somehow open up the old Stag Station, which had been locked for as long as I can remember. I really can’t help but feel somewhat curious about them.”

Just as he finished speaking, a slight rustling noise comes from the bed. Hornet turned around and was greeted with the Knight, who was sitting in an upright position and staring at her. Their expression was as unreadable as ever.

“Ah, little ghost. You’re in a house in Dirtmouth; I took you here after you had fallen unconscious.” Hornet said. After a slight pause, she asked: “Do you remember what happened? About why you were in such a state?”

She could recall the image vividly. She had seen dozens of vessels who had somehow escaped the confines of the abyss, and all of them were stone-faced. Even while they were in clutches of death itself, with their masks cracked and falling apart, none of them ever showed so much as a single hint of sadness, fear, anger, or anything in between. Of course, she knew that didn’t mean they were devoid of emotion. The fact that the Pale King had locked them in there meant he considered them failures. Not empty. Not devoid of thought. But even so, they never displayed anything.

The ‘little ghost’ had been no different. No different that is, until they stepped out of the temple.

 _'Tears. Black, thick, and made of the void, but tears nonetheless.'_ Hornet recalled. ' _I never thought that I’d see the day where a vessel would cry.'_

The Knight, instead of answering her question, stared at her for what felt like a solid minute, Then, with an almost frustratingly slow speed, they nodded.

Hornet walked up to them, slamming the door behind her, ignoring the small exclamation that rose from Elderbug. She kneeled down so that they met eye-to-eye. “Tell me then. What did you find in the temple? What happened to you?”

…

“... Right. You can’t speak.” Hornet sighed and stood back up. “Well, do you know how to sign? Or perhaps write?”

The Knight bowed their head down, as if ashamed.

“I’m guessing that’s a no then.” Hornet huffed in frustration. “Alright then, how about I ask you questions? Just nod or shake your head to answer. You can do that much, correct?”

They nodded.

“Did you flee because of the Hollow Knight?”

They shook their head.

“Then, the infection? Or some other unspeakable threat?”

They shook their head again.

“Was there some sort of barrier preventing you from entering the chamber?”

Another no.

“... Okay then, how about this - is your reason for leaving the temple related to why you were crying?”

A pause. Then, they nodded.

“I suppose that’s progress.” Hornet said tiredly. “The question then, is why were you crying?”

…

Hornet rolled her eyes. “This is getting us nowhere. What, did you lose your geo or something? Did you trip over and scrape your knee?” She asked sarcastically. “Did you actually kill the Hollow Knight, and now you’re being overwhelmed with regret?”

They nodded.

…

“What?” Hornet stared down at the Knight. “Are you serious? _That’s_ what happened?”

They tilted their head and waved their hand in a sort of seesaw motion: _Kind of_

“Little ghost, I’m not doubting your combat ability.” Hornet said. “I’ve seen how you handle your nail. But I find it difficult to believe that you managed to slay the Hollow Knight so quickly that they weren’t able to utter a single sound.”

Suddenly, she perked up. “Unless, the Hollow Knight was already dead? Of course! That makes _much_ more sense then-”

They shook their head.

…

“They… weren’t dead. I see. Then, so completely and utterly weakened that a single blow-”

They shook their head.

“You mean to tell me that you defeated the Hollow Knight then?” The Knight nodded. “That if I went into the temple _right now_ and walked into their chamber, I would see the corpse of-”

They shrugged.

Hornet’s hand twitched. Suddenly, she felt like impaling something with her needle. Maybe she should take a quick trip back to Greenpath and slay some of the Moss Chargers. Watching them ram themselves into the tip of her needle always did well to relieve her stress.

“This is ridiculous. I’ve had enough of this game. Ghost, if you-”

Suddenly, the Knight extended their arm and grabbed her hand. They felt cold, but not to an extreme. Their hand - their _void_ felt almost slippery, a half liquid. It was almost like being grabbed by a hand made entirely out of mercury. 

_The Hollow Knight’s almost pathetic body, being dragged around to fight for the infection, and their screams of pain as they stabbed themselves._

_Chains appearing around the Knight as they stood above the Hollow Knight, who was either dead or unconscious._

A shiver ran through her entire body. She yelped and instinctively drew her arm back from the Knight’s grasp. A spell of dizziness overtook her and she staggered backwards, almost falling over. “W-What in the Pale King’s name was _that?!_ ”

The Knight blinked. Then, it shrugged and bowed its head again. This time, it seemed to be more abashed, almost embarrassed. 

“That… that was….” Hornet shivered again. Almost as quickly as it came, the sense of nausea vanished. “I saw things. I saw… I saw the Hollow Knight? And I saw… you. Ghost, did you do that? Did you show me those scenes?”

…

They nodded.

“How? Could you always do that?”

They shrugged.

“Okay then… I guess that what you showed me answers some questions.” Hornet said. If the visions that she saw were to be believed, then the Knight had truly defeated the Hollow Knight. But there were _many_ things that puzzled her. “They raise several more, however. How would I have missed those screams? I was standing right outside of the Black Vault. Also, there were chains wrapping around you - would you not have been trapped?”

They shrugged. Then, they extended their hand again. This time, they didn’t grab her hand - instead, they only left it up in the air, like an offering.

Hornet stared at their hand for a while. Then, she let out a groan of defeat. Grimacing, she walks back up to the Knight and grabbed their hand before she had a chance to change her mind.

_Black. Nothing._

_Nothing._

_Nothing_

_Nothing._

_Then, symbols. They seemed vaguely similar, maybe some sort of text made up of an ancient or dead language. Below it was a lavishly decorated version of the Hallownest crest. A smaller version was present over the text. Small pillars of light moved about behind the text, though nothing was being revealed by them._

_Below the text and crest, there were several more lines of text, seemingly in the same language. To the bottom right of the scene, there was a strange symbol, one that wasn’t present anywhere in Hallownest._

_Then, it all vanished, leaving behind only a regular version of the Hallownest crest. It flashed once, then vanished. More pitch black darkness that seemed somehow different from before. An endless dark void._

_A broken, hollow black egg to the right. A glowing sigil with a few lines of text (This one legible) on the left. The view shifted down, revealing that the Knight was resting on a slab just outside of the Hollow Knight’s room. The Grimmchild was sleeping next to the slab, wings wrapped around itself like a blan-_

That was all she could take. Hornet pulled back with such force that the Knight, who was still holding on to her hand, was dragged out of the bed. They fell forward before losing their grip on Hornet.

It was as if she were forced to hear a million nails scratching down an endless hall of blackboards, with the noise being amplified by a thousand. Her skull pounded so fiercely that she wouldn’t be surprised if it exploded, right then and there. Everything was spinning.

Hornet clutched her head with one hand and used the other to push the door open. She stumbled and fell to the ground just outside of the house. She began dry heaving, stomach twisting and folding into itself. Literal stars filled her vision.

She felt a hand being awkwardly placed on her back. She flinched, expecting a new bout of dizziness and random clips of the Knight to appear, but nothing happened. The Knight only patted her with a sort of timidness that you would expect to see from a shy child. Their gesture didn’t do much to alleviate her sickness, but was strangely touching nonetheless. 

After several more minutes of dry heaving, Hornet finally found the strength to stand. She was still dizzy, but it was manageable. She walked back inside of the house and gestured for the Knight to follow her.

She sat on the bed and gazed at the Knight as they walked in, closing the door behind them. Her mind scrambled to try and make sense of what she saw, but no matter how she looked at it, none of it made sense.

The Knight jumped onto the bed and sat next to her, temporarily pausing her thoughts.

They turned their head to stare up at her. She found herself staring back at them. Her sibling. Dark void swirled behind its spotless mask, and their cloak seemed perfectly tailored to fit them. Truth be told, they looked exactly the same from when she first met them, in Greenpath. But somehow, they seemed to be completely different. Completely changed, almost like a new vessel. Or not a vessel at all. 

After all, what good would a vessel be if it held emotions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing dialogue-heavy chapters suck :(


	3. Chapter 3

They stared at the Hollow Knight for a while. The Knight had to come back - whether they wanted to or not. They had seen what would await him at the end of their quest. And yet, there was still that _calling_ , that _pull_. The Black Vault called out to them. It was their purpose, their goal. Sooner or later, They would have to re-enter the Hollow Knight’s chamber.

The Knight found however, that this allure had lost some of its strength now. They knew that they could resist its pull for a very long time. No, they hadn’t come here for a second attempt at ending their journey - they had come here for a different reason altogether; That is, they wanted to see for their own eyes, whether or not the Hollow Knight was alive.

When they had fought it, in that previous life, it was wrapped in chains. They were suspended above them with their cloak wrapped around their body, and several layers of steel wrapped around their cloak. Then, when it had died, dark orange liquid that looked almost bronze was oozing out of dozens of wounds on its body, some of them self-inflicted. It couldn’t even stand or hold its nail.

Not now, however. Now, they simply stood, back hunched over and with an idle look in their tinted eyes - weakened by the infection, but most definitely alive. They held their nail almost casually, with its tip barely touching the floor. Like it was waiting for them. The Knight wondered if they too, held memories of their previous life. If they remembered their death. Their murder.

They shivered as flashes ran through their mind. Even though it felt like it happened so long ago, they could still recall broken memories. Memories that did not belong to them. They saw the Hollow Knight looking back at the edge of the Abyss, where it had locked eyes with itself. The Hollow Knight looking up at its Father with affection. 

Were these emotions a burden? A weakness? The Hollow Knight had ended up like this because they loved him, loved the Pale King. This entire kingdom fell into ruin because of the deceit caused by love. But the reason why the kingdom prospered in the first place was also because of love. The Pale King loved his citizens, so he had granted them thoughts, strength, and other liberties.

The Knight turned away and left silently. Through absorbing the infection within their sibling, they too had begun to love. They loved Hornet. They loved Elderbug. They loved the Grimmchild. And for better or worse, they loved the Hollow Knight.

It felt terrible. It made everything harder. They kept envisioning all of the ways they could _die_. Death plagued their mind at every second. Their steps felt heavier, like a ball and chain was attached to them. They found themselves recounting every bug and dream that they had slaughtered on their path. It must have been in the thousands. Their souls weighed down on him, but if given the choice, they would not give up this newfound ability that they had taken from the Hollow Knight.

Because it also felt amazing. To feel, to have thoughts. To be able to feel threatened, even when they themselves weren’t in danger. To have their spirits completely crushed at the thought of someone else dying. It was so depressing to think about, but so _liberating_. How could something be both terrible and amazing, and all for the same reasons?

The Knight looked around at the Infected Crossroads. They had reached the bottom of the well, and the chains leading up to the surface were just behind them. The Knight felt something, something overpowering, whenever it looked at the infection. It was hard to pinpoint, a complicated mixture of almost everything.

The only thing they knew for sure about the infection was that they wanted to get rid of it. And that once they did, their purpose would be complete, and that they would have no reason for existing.

_A pure nail, stuck to the sands of the Blue Lake._

Was this how _he_ had felt? When he stared at his mask within the rooms of the Teacher’s Archive, standing right before Monomon herself?

When he helped the would-be murderer of Monomon?

 _'Maybe.'_ The Knight thought.

They wished that they could ask him.

* * *

“That bench may be iron, but I assure you it’s quite comfortable.”

 _'Strange.'_ Hornet thought as she lays her needle flat on her lap. ' _The old bug just stands there all day… I wonder why he doesn’t sit on the bench? As he said, it is comfortable. I feel like I could sit here for a long while.'_

She closed her eyes. The Knight had went down the well, to the Forgotten Crossroads a few hours ago. She debated on whether or not she should follow him, but ultimately ended up deciding to stay at Dirtmouth, for a few days longer. The atmosphere here was strangely welcoming and pleasant, and her mind felt slightly sharper. The air, though plain, was fresher than even the air in Greenpath.

' _I can see why people would want to live here… Maybe even I could be content…'_

Hornet shook her head. No, she couldn’t. At least, not for now. She was bound by birth and honor with Hallownest, bound to be its protector. Until the threat of the infection was dealt with, she couldn’t just abandon her duties. Just the thought of just running away to live on the surface was enough to make the air suddenly taste sour, and the bench feel colder.

First and foremost, she should focus on the only possible solution to getting rid of the infection.

“That little ghost…” Hornet muttered under her breath. She ignores the sideways glance that Elderbug gives her as she starts to ponder about the wandering Knight. She couldn’t make any sense of what they had shown her, and the more she thought about it, the more confused she got. It was as if the Knight had experienced something that didn’t actually happen.

She felt someone sit down next to her on the bench, interrupting her thoughts. She jumped up, grabbing her needle and assuming a defensive position. But when she saw who it was, she just sighed and dropped her arm to her side. “Ah, little ghost. I was thinking about your situation when you startled me.”

The Knight opened up their map and held it up for Hornet to see.

Hornet sat back down next to them and took the map from the Knight. It was a surprisingly well drawn and detailed map, one that covered most of the major areas in Hallownest. Despite how far he must have traveled with it, there was little sign of wear, and the ink wasn’t smudged. Various pins were stuck on it, with various symbols. Some of them she could recognize, like the ones of a bench and stag, but she couldn’t decipher the others.

“Such a large map… Have you really explored this much, little one?” Elderbug commented. Hornet, having entirely forgotten that he was standing there, jumps before turning her head to glare at him.

“Do you just stand there for the entire day?” Hornet huffed. “Don’t you have a house, or something?”

“I do, but I usually stand here for the chance that a traveller passes by.” Elderbug said.

“You can go and rest in your house.” Hornet says. “If someone passes by, I’ll call you over. Now, please leave.”

Elderbug looked at her with confused hurt.

“... Look.” Hornet says. “It’s just that I wish to speak to the little Ghost. Alone. It’s nothing personal, okay?”

He sighed and turned around, muttering under his breath. As he begins to trail away from them, Hornet turned around and returned her focus to the Knight.

They were staring at Elderbug’s shrinking form in the distance. “Is something the matter?” Hornet asked.

They turned back to look at her, and after some hesitation, they shake their head. They leaned over and pointed at the Temple of the Black Egg on the map. It was marked with a large drawing of the Hollow Knight’s mask.

“The temple?” Hornet asked. “Do you want to go there?”

They shook their head.

“Did you go there already?”

They nodded.

“I see. And did you discover anything interesting? I’m assuming that you did, considering that you're going out of your way to tell me about this.”

They nodded again, and then held their hand out.

“Ugh.” Hornet shook her head. “Can we not do that? I’m getting sick just _thinking_ about going through that again. Don’t you have any other way of communication?”

They withdrew their hand and shrugged.

She looked back at their map. It really was well drawn. It looked like a map that would have been in circulation back before the infection, when there were cartographers who did this sort of thing for a living. If they wanted, then the Knight probably could have had that job.

“Hey, ghost.” Hornet said. “You’re not so bad at drawing stuff, are you? Do you think that you could make me a picture of what you want to tell me?”

They blinked once in surprise, and then looked down at their map. After a few seconds of pondering, they nodded and flipped the map over to its blank side. From beneath their cloak, they produced an inkwell and a quill. They began to stare at the parchment with such intensity that Hornet thought that it might be set on fire.

After a full minute passes, they finally draw a single line on the paper. Then, they went back to staring at the paper, eyes squinting slightly in concentration. The hand holding their quill trembled slightly, causing a drop of ink fell on the paper, right on the line that they had drawn.

“... Just give me your hand.” Hornet said when they began to scribble out their ruined line. “I guess your skill in drawing lies in maps... and nothing else.”

The look on their mask didn’t change, but Hornet could have sworn that they suddenly looked _sad_. They glanced up at her, and then back at their drawing. With a flair bordering on being melodramatic, they slowly folded up their map and hid it back under their cloak, along with the inkwell and quill. They looked like a child who had just been scolded.

Hornet winced. She wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to this. “H-Hey, don’t be so upset. Ghost, your talents just lie in places other than… um, creative self-expression.”

The Knight simply held out their hand, and Hornet could have sworn that they had just rolled their non-existent eyes.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Hornet said. She grabbed their hand and -

_The Hollow Knight, suspended above the ground in chains._

_Just looking at it caused an ache of sympathy to appear in her heart. How deep in suffering it must have been, tied up like that with nothing to do except feel the infection boring a hole into your brain. With nothing to think about except the knowledge that soon, they would falter. And when they did, they would fail their only purpose in life. It wasn’t fair._

_Then, they vanished. In the Hollow Knight’s place was Ghost, standing before the inner chamber of the temple. There was a glaring orange glow coming from the chamber, but she could see a faint outline. An outline of the Hollow Knight, barely able to stand, but standing._

_The Knight turned away and left the temple. When they were outside, they made a bee-line towards the well, where they climbed up swiftly. When they reached the top, she saw herself, resting at the bench, deep in thought and with her needle laying on her lap._

They pulled away, and she nearly doubled over from the sudden vertigo she received. Her skull pounded fiercely, and the familiar sense of nausea filled her stomach. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. The sickness passed, much quicker than the last two times she had gone through this ordeal. 

_'Maybe I’m getting used to it.'_ Hornet thinks. _'I hope so.'_

She opened her eyes and looked to her left, where the Knight was sitting. They glanced up with her, anxiety, anticipation, and worry bubbling behind its mask. They had shown her the Hollow Knight, chained up on moment, and then freed the next. What did that mean? She didn’t have a clue.

“... Ghost.” Hornet said. “I know that you feel lost about what happened to you. I know that you want my help… But truth be told, I am as confused as you are. I do not know how to decipher these visions you are giving me.”

They blinked, and then bowed their head down.

“I’m sorry. If I knew of a way to help you, then I would.” Hornet said. They stood up from the bench and looked towards the well, trying to not feel guilty about them. It was hard - ever since their sudden change in behavior, Hornet found herself becoming more and more attached to them; For better or worse, they were the only thing she really had in Hallownest. Both of her parents were dead, and all of her other siblings were also dead (some slain by her own needle). She had spent most of her life protecting Hallownest in solidarity, so she didn’t even have any friends, or acquaintances.

A shiver ran through her spine. She didn’t have anyone else in this world. Every sane bug that she has met since the infection, she had either attacked or avoided altogether. This sudden realization sent waves of cold shock through her body. Was she really so alone? 

Something tugged at her dress. She looked down to see the Knight, looking up at her in worry.

“The only friend I have is a mute vessel.” Hornet mutters. “Who is my sibling. Great.”

They recoiled back, as if struck.

“Ugh, no, I didn’t mean anything bad by that.” Hornet groaned and shook her head. Why did she always blurt these things out? First she had hurt Elderbug, then the Knight. It was like there was no filter between her mind and her mouth. “It’s just that I’ve never felt so _useless_ before. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I’m supposed to be the protector of Hallownest, but what’s the point in protecting a fallen kingdom?” Hornet asked bitterly. Images of her life began to flash in her eyes. She had spent a countless number of days, weeks, months, stalking Hallownest’s underground, and for what reason? To hunt lost vessels who had found their way up from the abyss? “I can’t even go inside of the damned temple without feeling like my soul is being drained. I’m so-”

The Knight jumped up and stood on the bench, so that they were almost eye level with Hornet. She stared at them, mind trying to process what they were doing. Then, before she could react, they leaned forward and wrapped their arms around her body tightly.

“W-What are you doing?” Hornet stammered. Her face suddenly felt like it was burning. Even though their touch was cold, it still felt comforting, somehow. “Are you… hugging me?”

They pulled away and nodded timidly. 

“I… Okay then. Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but… why did you do that?”

They shrugged, and then pointed at her.

“You did it because of… me?”

They nodded.

Hornet stared at them in wonder. Then she sighed and sat back down on the bench, in which the Knight did the same. They were definitely the strangest vessel that she has met, showing capability of expressing genuine compassion. Did they inherit that trait from when they defeated the Hollow Knight? Or had they just hidden it from her all this time?

“Alright Ghost, I won't give up just yet. Show me some more, and we’ll see if we can figure out what happened in there.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“Do it, now!” She saw herself shout._

_Hornet was only a spectator in these visions of the Knight. She couldn’t speak, move, or interact with anything. So she could only stare on in shock as she saw another Hornet fly into the Hollow Knight’s chamber, impaling their mask with her needle._

_Orange particles flew out of the crack in their mask at a rapid pace, and at first, Hornet thought that it was the infection._

_But it wasn’t. They were strange patterned circles that vaguely resembled snowflakes. They flew out of their mask quickly, before vanishing into the air. The strange stream of sigils didn’t last long however; The Knight began attacking the Hollow Knight from behind, and they broke out of her string with a roar. She saw herself get knocked out, her body falling to the floor limply, like a ragdoll._

She pulled her hand away from the Knight’s. Cold tremors filled her body and her heart suddenly felt as heavy as lead. 

_'Did I just watch myself… die?'_

Her body reflexively stiffened as something cold is wrapped around her. But she knew it was just the Knight hugging her again, so she left her muscles relax. Even though they were cold, their hug did well to calm her nerves.

It was like there was an earthquake happening right below her feet. The town of Dirtmouth was spinning. She felt terrible, but it was nothing compared to the first few times she did this. 

“Ghost… When I attacked the Hollow Knight, did I… Well, did I survive?” Hornet asked hoarsely, pulling away from their embrace.

They appeared to think for a few moments before shrugging.

“I hope that I wouldn’t be so easily defeated, even if I were being weakened by the power of the temple.” Hornet muttered. “Anyway... Did you happen to notice those orange symbols that came out of their mask? When I attacked them, that is.”

…

They shook their head. The Knight brought out their map and turned it onto the blank side. With a sense of urgency, they brought out their quill and practically shoved it into her hands.

“You want me to draw the symbol?”

They nodded frantically.

“I suppose I could do that.” Hornet said. The circles she saw had a relatively simple design, mainly consisting of elliptical shapes that jutted out from the center. After a minute, she finished drawing and looked at the Knight, who was staring at it intently.

...

Hornet stared at them incredulously as they slapped their hand onto their face.

“W-What did you do that for?” She sputters. 

The Knight jumped down from the bench and motioned for her to follow them. Before she could say another word, a bright pink aura formed around their body, and small crystals shot out from the ground around their feet. No more than a second later, the crystals shattered, and their body was sent flying forward at an incredible speed, towards the well.

“Since when could you…” Hornet shook her head and sighed. “Alright then, I guess I better follow…”

* * *

“You want me to go in there with you?”

They shook their head and pointed at the ground.

“Then, you just want me to stand here.”

They shrugged and pointed at the ground again. Then, they brought out their nail and held it up like a lance before throwing it into the temple. It flew for a few meters before falling to the ground and clattering.

“Um… Wait, do you want me to throw my needle at the Hollow Knight?” Hollow asks. “Like how I did in that vision of yours?”

They jumped and nodded excitedly. 

“Wait, but the last time I did that, I-”

The Knight didn’t stay around to listen. Instead, their body began to glow again. Hornet instinctively jumped back as the crystals formed at their feet and exploded, sending pink shards everywhere. As they flew further into the heart of the temple, they grabbed their nail from the ground with one hand.

“... This vessel’s going to be the death of me.” Hornet grumbled. “Literally.”

She winced as an extremely loud shriek fills the entire room. She peeked into the dark hallway of the temple, and saw the dark silhouettes of both Ghost and the Hollow Knight, being projected from the orange mist. The Knight moved quickly, slashing their nail at the Hollow Knight’s battered body whenever they could. In stark contrast, the Hollow Knight moved sluggishly, carrying out their attacks without vigor. They looked like a puppet being dragged around on strings. The Knight dodged their lazy attacks with ease, jumping over their slashes and shadow dashing through their lunges.

She grabbed her needle and prepares to lunge in, trying to calm her pounding heart. Any moment now, there would be an opening. 

Their fight dragged on, with the Knight tacking on more and more hits. She had to force herself to not look away when the Hollow Knight began to stab himself. Her heart wrenched when she saw the dark cysts on their exposed body, and the steaming infection that poured out of them. She couldn’t look away though - she might miss her opportunity.

Then it came. The Hollow Knight landed a hit, parrying one of the Knight’s slashes and counter-attacking. They struck the Knight with so much force that for a moment, Hollow thought it was over, over in just one hit. But from the Knight’s body, what looked like thorny vines of void shot out piercing through the Hollow Knight’s body.

They brought their mask up to the ceiling and roared again, so loudly that debris fell from the ceiling. Hornet, without even thinking, charged straight in and tossed her needle. It flew straight and dug into its target. Hornet’s body followed soon after, and as she pressed her weight against her needle, she willed for her string to restrain the Hollow Knight.

A massive _snap_ sounded out from below her. She looked down at them, and felt her heart sink into her stomach. She had managed to make a crack in their mask, but nothing else. Those strange symbols that she saw in the Knight’s vision didn’t appear. Did this mean that all of this would be for nothing?

The Knight dashed forward and brought something out from their cloak; It looked like the hilt of a nail, but there was no blade. 

“What are you doing?!” Hornet yelled. She could feel the strings weakening, ready to snap under the Hollow Knight’s strength. “Those symbols aren’t appearing! We have to get out of here!”

They ignored her completely, instead opting to draw their arm back. It looked like they were about to strike at the Hollow Knight with the empty hilt.

But there was no way that they would do something so dumb, right? Their other hand still grasped their pure nail. Surely they were charging some sort of nail art technique, and were about to deliver a fatal blow to them?

Nope. They swung at the Hollow Knight’s mask with the empty handle. They didn’t even hit them with the hilt itself. They just swiped at the empty space in front of them, as if there was a blade. Like an idiot.

 _'They missed.'_ Hornet screamed internally. ' _They swung at them with a useless weapon, and they mi-'_

* * *

It was so bright.

The Knight took a deep breath and looked around. Aside from the platform they were standing on, and the three other smaller platforms that were floating above them, there was nothing but an endless drop and view. Before the golden clouds in front of him, there was a radiant sun.

They climbed up to the highest platform and stared at the sun. It was bright, so bright. It was like staring directly into the crystals from Crystal Peak, with their precious energy. The sight of it was almost enough to overwhelm them. Almost. 

Before they could second guess themselves, they brought out their nail.

The golden ball of light began to change into something else. Something with wings, something with a crown, something with form. Massive, translucent particles of dream essence floated around them.

Every bit of void that made their tiny body up felt like it was vibrating. Sharp energy flowed through them, and it felt like they were about to explode from sheer anxiety. Their head was spinning and their hand trembled so much that they almost lost grip of their nail.

And they loved it.

A giant explosion of light filled their vision, and as it faded, they saw it. They saw the infection. It was glorious. It was disgusting. It was everything that the Knight was created to counter. It was emitting an aura of pure hatred. It was -

 _'The Radiance.'_ The Knight thought as they stared at her. They didn’t know how, but they knew that that was their name.

They also knew that this _thing_ had to die.

* * *

The Knight felt something twisting and turning inside of them. No more than a minute ago, the skies were filled with bright, golden clouds that looked as glorious as the Radiance herself. Now, there was only a dark fog that threatened to completely envelop the both of them. The Radiance, once so blindingly bright, was now only a flicker that barely held back the void of the abyss.

The Knight’s body flew up into the air, and they felt something _snap_ inside of them. The searing wounds that they had received from their battle seemed to have vanished completely. They felt no pain. No worry. No joy.

Just satisfaction for a job well done.

Dark, spiked tentacles shot up from the clouds of void and gripped the wings of the Radiance, restraining her. The shade of the Hollow Knight rose up, eyes glowing a deadly pale yellow. Arms shot out from underneath their cloak, and they grabbed at the space where her eyes were. They pulled and tore it open, causing her to scream in agony. An ungodly glow shone out from her, but it was still nothing compared to the consuming fog surrounding them.

The Knight watched all of this unfold as they felt more cracks within themselves. Something was breaking.

Then, their mask shattered.

Then, their cloak was shredded.

And all that was left was their shade, empowered by the Void Heart within them.

They began striking at the Radiance, every hit as strong as a thousand nail slashes. Dream essence flew out of her with every blow, and as they hit her again and again, more and more of it poured out, until finally, with one more great strike, an explosion of the stuff gushed out of her. 

A literal fountain of essence gushed out of the gaping hole where her face used to be. She shrieked with such agony and volume that the Knight wouldn’t have been surprised if Hornet would have managed to hear it, from an entire reality and dimension away.

The Abyss creeped closer and closer, growing darker and darker until finally, even the Knight themselves couldn’t see anything, except for the pure and absolute darkness of the void.

They heard the Radiance scream once more before her voice gradually faded away as her body and mind was claimed by the Abyss.

After that, there was nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

“Ah, little ghost. I was thinking about your situation when you startled me.”

The Knight stared straight forward. Their posture was oddly stiff, and their eyes were unblinking. Not a single movement came out of the vessel as they sat in stoic silence. Hornet stared at them, expression becoming confused, then worried. “Little Ghost? Is there something the matter?”

They continued to stare forward for another excruciatingly long second. Then, their head slowly pivoted to face her. Their eyes remained still and unblinking. Hornet shifted around in the bench uncomfortably as she lowered her eyes from their strangely intense gaze. It felt like she was staring straight into the eyes of the Hunter.

“Is the little one… okay?”

Hornet jumped as she hears a voice come from behind her. She whirled around to find that it was just Elderbug; In his silence, she had entirely forgotten that he was there. She huffed and glared at him. “Do you always just stand there for the entire-”

The Knight jumped down from the bench, suddenly filled with movement. They had drawn their nail and were gripping it so tightly that it was shaking. They took a few steps forward in a frantic, jittery manner. Then, before Hornet could react, their body starts glowing and pink crystals form around their feet. They exploded, shooting crystal fragments at Hornet, and their body is sent flying towards the well.

“Ghost! What are you doing?!” Hornet shouted after them, but it’s too late. They had already gone down the well. Hornet groaned in frustration and sprinted after them, leaving behind an extremely confused Elderbug.

As she descended down the well, a frantic worry gnaws at her mind. Why the Knight was acting like this, she couldn’t fathom. The only thing that she knew was that they were heading towards the temple - pink crystals littered the path leading to it. Did something in the temple call the Knight to it? Had the infection somehow managed to muster enough strength to summon them, even through its bindings?

Already, visions of disaster run through her mind. She saw the Knight running recklessly into the chamber of the temple, only to be impaled by the Hollow Knight’s nail. She saw the Knight becoming filled with infection and chained up like in their vision.

Hornet ran into the temple, but stopped when she saw the Knight. They were at the foot of the entrance to the temple’s chambers, and were staring into it. They held their nail loosely, but even from several meters away, she could see that their entire body was trembling. 

“Ghost?”

They turned to look at her. Their gaze seemed softer somehow, more thoughtful. Then they blinked and looked down at their hand, which was holding their nail. They stare at it for a few seconds before sheathing it and walking towards her. They walked so unsteadily that Hornet was afraid that they might stumble and fall flat on their face.

“What’s wrong?” Hornet asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice. 

They held out their hand. Hornet took it without hesitation.

_The Radiance._

_Hornet stared it at uncomprehendingly._

_It spewed bright, godly essence that could only illuminate the void an insignificant amount._

_The Abyss creeped closer, and Hornet saw the Knight’s shade. Their eyes glew with ferocity, but were soon swallowed by the dark fog of the void. Not long after, Hornet’s vision grew dark as well._

_She heard the Radiance scream once more before her voice gradually faded away as her body and mind was claimed by the Abyss._

_After that, there was nothing. Just darkness._

_Then, a different kind of darkness. Pitch black, but not as consuming as the Abyss before it. There, it appeared again. The symbol of Hallownest, shining brightly before the black. At the sight of it, Hornet felt her head suddenly thump, and if she would have cried out in pain if she were able. It felt like her brain was folding in on itself, and her skull was trying to follow suit. It flashed once, and then vanished, leaving behind nothing except the remnants of her headache._

_Then, she saw the bench at Dirtmouth, and the Knight sitting on it, and herself, and her mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear her own words. Everything was in black and white. There seemed to be thin black veins around the edges of her vision, almost like collagen._

…

She closed her eyes and took deep breaths.. The sickness passed, much quicker than the last two times she had gone through this ordeal. _Maybe I’m getting used to it._ Hornet thought. _I hope so._

“That… was… the Radiance. That’s her name, isn’t it? That’s the infection’s name, isn’t it?” Hornet opened her eyes and looked down at them. “What happened? What did you do?”

They pointed towards the inside of the temple. Then, they took something out from under their cape; It looked like an empty hilt of a nail. With it in their hand, they swung it into the empty space in front of them.

“You… You used that to kill the Radiance? Or the Hollow Knight?” She guessed.

The Knight drew their nail and scratched something into the floor. She looked down and saw a messily scrawled oval shape with four thick dots in the middle. It was only after a full thirty seconds of staring did she realize that it was supposed to be a dreamer mask - Monomon’s.

They kneeled down and brought their handle down on their drawing. It looked like they were stabbing at it

“You used that thing to kill the dreamers, then?” Hornet asked. “Does that handle somehow bear the power to access their dreams?”

They nodded and stood back up. Then they pointed at the temple again, this time using their hilt. Hornet looked at the temple, then back down at the mask. “Then, you went into the dreams of the Hollow Knight? And the infection was contained within their dreams? The Radiance, that is?”

They nodded again.

“So, you went into their dream and… You managed to defeat the Radiance.” Hornet said, staring at the Knight with increasing awe. The Radiance. The infection. Not even the Pale King, a specially crafted vessel made to contain it, and a magical seal created through the sacrifices of three powerful bugs could defeat it. And yet, the little Ghost in front of them had apparently killed it.

That is, according to their visions. They had killed it… and nothing happened. The Knight returned back to Dirtmouth, and the Hollow Knight was still alive along with the infection inside of it.

They slowly nodded. Their face remained as impassive and stoic as ever, but Hornet could sense an aura of confusion surrounding it. Twice now, it had reached the end of its quest. Once, through absorbing the infection. And then by killing the infection itself. 

But nothing came out of it.

One of the Knight’s eyes twitched. They withdrew their nail handle and brought out their pure nail. They had to find out. They had to find out if it would keep happening, and they had to find out now. They could feel all of the deaths they had experienced threatening to crush him. Had they come so far and done so much, only to be stalled right before the finish line? Had they caused the deaths of so many, such as Quirrel and the Nailmaster to aid themselves in their quest? A quest with a seemingly meaningless outcome?

A heavy blanket of dread settled over them as they sprinted inside of the temple. They heard Hornet yelling after them, but they didn’t care. It would take too long to explain everything all over again. They couldn’t do that, not with the temple right _there_. They had to find out, find out now, or else these _thoughts_ wouldn't go away. The Knight could feel the weight of hundreds of corpses hanging above them, threatening to crush them.

 _'No cost too great.'_ The Knight thinks as they approach the Hollow Knight.

That was what their father said when they left the Knight, and thousands of their siblings to die. The outcome of all of those sacrifices was nothing. He had done all of it to save his kingdom and utterly failed. 

They knew that now, and they knew that their father died with thousands of dead bugs on their soul.

Would that how they would end up too? Would their quest end in vain? Their quest built on corpses?

They wouldn’t accept that. They couldn’t accept that.

They saw the Hollow Knight grip their nail tightly as they approached. They drew their nail too, and prepared to fight their sibling once again. It still hurt, seeing them like this, with their damaged body only held together with infection.

They just hoped that this would be the last time.

As they marched on, they heard a voice inside of their head. It was trying to tell them to stop, to turn back. That if this worked, then they would be infected, and forced to the confines of this chamber. They would die.

The Knight ignored these thoughts and readied their nail.

* * *

**Plot’s been moving along kind of slowly but I promise it will speed up in the future.**


	6. Chapter 6

Pain.

The burning pain of the infection filled every part of their body. Once they had started to absorb the noxious clouds of orange from the defeated Hollow Knight, they found themselves unable to stop. But this didn’t matter to them. They had known fully well that this would be the outcome, if they chose to pursue defeating the Hollow Knight.

They had known what the outcome would be, and they had welcomed it. So why did they feel such overwhelming dread? As if doing this was wrong, as if doing this wasn’t what they were supposed to do. Every bodily instinct in the Knight screamed at them to stop. They wanted to stop, before it was too late. To stop before they regretted it. 

_'Can’t.'_ The Knight thought harshly, as if berating themself. The only thing that had kept them from turning back before the battle were their newly acquired thoughts. The thoughts that told them that this was how their quest was meant to end anyway. The thoughts that told them that they should be happy to have been given this third chance at completing their quest.

The Radiance inside of the Hollow Knight screamed. Chains broke around them. The sickly orange of the infection filled their vision.

It was all happening the same.

_'The same?'_

The Knight shuddered. They hadn’t even thought about it, but everything _was_ the same. The Hollow Knight attacked them in the same exact ways as the last two times. The Hollow Knight began stabbing themself to get rid of the infection, in the exact same manner as the last two times. 

So wouldn’t it make sense if they were just going to be sent back?

Just like the last two times?

 _'Pointless.'_ The Knight thought. They shudder again. Newly formed chains wrapped around their body.

* * *

“Ah, little ghost. I was thinking about your situation when you startled me.”

_'Again?'_

The Knight shook their head and stands up from the bench. There was that pulling, again. It was stronger this time, somehow. They could almost physically _feel_ the Hollow Knight calling them, beckoning. It felt like their soul was being tugged. They could hear Hornet saying something, but it seemed far away, unimportant.

It was a fluke. It had to be. They were just getting unlucky, that’s all. Maybe if they were to do it again, whatever was sending them back would stop. The Knight started towards the well again, nodding to themselves. It made sense. It made perfect sense. It was good, good to go to the temple again. They had to ease the pulling somehow, right? Scratch that itch? 

Unlucky, that was all. Just unlucky. And when the Knight went over to the Hollow Knight’s Chamber and fought them _again_ , and when they started absorbing the infection _again,_ and when they woke up on the bench again, well, they just got unlucky. _Again._

“Ah, little ghost. I was thinking about your situation when you startled me.”

The Knight jumped down from the bench again. Their head was spinning. Or maybe it wasn’t luck. Perhaps they were doing something wrong. Should they try to wait a little before absorbing the infection? Try to defeat the Hollow Knight without being hit once? Fight without any charms? Without any spells? Yes, yes, that made sense. They should try that. For sure, this time, they would succeed. They would end their quest. The end was so close that they could taste it.

Something bubbled within the Knight as they walked to the well again. It felt as if their head was screaming. That pull was still there, still there and still itching and it was even worse. They felt like their shade was being split apart, and everything was cold, cold with foreboding and anxiety. They didn’t know why. They just soldiered forward, trying to ignore the feelings they had and the thoughts they had because they weren’t supposed to have them. 

Just finish the quest. _'Please,'_ The Knight thought, as they ignored their thoughts. They just wanted to finish the quest. The lure now was so strong that it was insane. Everything moved so quickly, the Knight could only look around and watch with some sort of sick amazement. Since when did time go by so quickly?

Have they reached the temple yet?

They ran a few steps, stopped, then ran again, and then stopped once more. Their entire body felt like it was vibrating intensely and they didn’t know why. The Black Egg was calling their name, shouting it. Their non-existent name, it was being screamed by the temple. Their nail, sheathed and strapped to their back felt hot, almost burning.

Then the Hollow Knight appeared in front of them, and suddenly they were absorbing the infection again. Then the scene flickered out of existence and the Knight was back on the bench, next to Hornet. They jumped down and tried to go to the well, but lights flashed in their eyes and suddenly they found themselves inside of the temple again, fighting the Hollow Knight. It all escalated far too much and the Knight was tired and excited and angry and happy and sad and confused all at the same time and the world just spun and spun and spun and spun.

It spun and then stopped, and the Knight was back, back in the bench at Dirtmouth with Hornet right there and Elderbug behind her and that was just too much for them to handle.

“Ah, little ghost. I was thinking about your situation when you startled me.”

The Knight turned to look at her. Then, with no warning, black tears began to pour out of their mask. Hornet stares at them for a moment, completely caught off guard. Their body began to tremble and as more liquid void began to drip over their mothwing cape, Hornet suddenly found herself beginning to panic. It was a disconcerting sight, to say the least.

“Little Ghost! Are you injured? What happened?!” She stood up from the bench.

“Oh my. Did something happen to them?”

Hornet jumped as she heard a voice come from behind her. She whirls around to find that it was just Elderbug, staring at the vessel with a mixture of apprehension and worry; In his silence, she had entirely forgotten that he was there. 

_'Again. Againagainagain. All the same. Again.'_

She huffed and glared at him. “Do you always just stand there for the entire day? Don’t you have a house or something?”

_'Again.'_

“I do, but…”

Elderbug trailed off into silence as the Knight got up from the bench. Void had begun to pool around their feet. They could feel themselves falling apart, and the disgusted dread the sensation brought them only worsened their condition. That, on top of their distress and confusion made them feel like they were being dipped into a pool of hysteria. Time seemed to be moving entirely too quickly, and the Knight found themselves unable to form a coherent thought.

The only thing they could think of was the word ‘ _again.'_

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Hornet kneel eddown to take a better look at the Knight. They hadn’t looked this bad even after their battle at Kingdom’s Edge, where she had landed several devastating blows. She brought her hands to their body and began feeling around for wounds - punctures, slashes, embedded objects, or anything else. “Ghost, you are able to heal yourself with soul, correct? If I bring you to a hot spring, do you think that you could-”

They began shaking their head. A fleck of void splattered onto Hornet’s mask, and she felt her heart twist. “You can’t? You mean to tell me you can’t heal yourself?”

They looked at her, viscous tears seeping out from their mask. Why couldn’t they tell her? Tell her that their quest was doomed to fail? That everything was happening over and over again? That they had killed so many on their road to the end? That none of it mattered?

Their journey here had only brought pain and suffering. Hell, even sharing their experiences with her made her sick. It was like they were cursed.

“I can’t find where your wounds are.” Hornet muttered. “It’s pretty obvious you’re pretty injured though. I’ll-”

They shook their head again, this time more frantically.

“... You’re _not_ injured?” Hornet blinked. “Then, what?”

_The Hollow Knights, all crumpled. Hundreds of them._

_The Knights, absorbing the infection._

_Screaming. So many voices, crying out in unison. It was a cacophony straight from hell._

Hornet recoiled as these brief images flash in her mind. Her hand pulls away from their body cold and damp.

“A-Ah. Ghost? What… was that?” Hornet asked, horrified. “Ghost, why would you… I saw so many of them. Did you… Did you fight the Hollow Knight again?”

They nodded meekly. At that one, singular moment, Hornet felt more pity than she had ever felt in her entire life. Her sibling just looked so lost, so frightened, so hurt, that she couldn’t help but feel her heart tug in her chest.

“And… Oh god, how many times? You fought them however many times, and, and you… You woke up here, didn’t you… Little Ghost...” Without even thinking about it, she pulled the vessel into a close hug. The two stayed like that for some time, until eventually, the Knight’s trembling stilled, and they stopped leaking void. The only sign of their grief that was left were two almost imperceptible black stains beneath the sockets of their mask.

Hornet slowly broke off their embrace. She looked down at herself and sighed inwardly at the black marks on her dress. “Do you feel better, little Ghost?”

The Knight nodded and sat back down on the bench. They put a hand up to their mask and appeared to sigh. Hornet sat back down with them and stared down at them for a second.

“How many times?”

…

They shrugged. 

“Well, it would be fair to say that trying to fight the Hollow Knight again wouldn’t accomplish much. I do have to wonder why you tried to fight them so many times.”

The Knight shuddered. They could still feel the lure coming from the temple. It whispered to them, telling them to enter its chambers once more, and replace the Hollow Knight. But they wouldn’t. Not anymore. They could only wonder why it seemed like they were cursed to never finish this journey. It was maddening, to have the finish line right in front of them, but always held just out of reach.

What explanation was there? The Radiance? Some sort of magical seal made by the Pale King? The Knight had no idea. And judging by the silence coming from Hornet, she didn’t have any idea either.

They closed their eyes and tried to think. But minutes passed, and their mind was still blank. They wished that there was someone who could help them. Someone who was smart enough to possibly hold some sort of answer to their puzzle.

 _'I wish Quirrel was here… He was smart… A scholar...'_ The Knight thought wistfully. The last time they had seen them, it was almost right after defeating Uumuu and killing Monomon. They had found him sitting at the Blue Lake, nail by his side. They talked, they left, he stayed. 

And then he was gone.

He left his nail behind too, stuck on the sands. The Knight remembered that once, he had mentioned that travelling Hallownest without a nail meant certain death. 

_'Why, Quirrel?'_

They could remember it more clearly now - before killing Monomon, they had woken up in the Resting Grounds and was given the dream nail. Shortly after that, they managed to stumble upon the Teacher’s Archive while wandering. They met with Quirrel outside, went in, and… everything else happened.

The Resting Grounds. They rested at the bench there, didn’t they? They wondered why this detail suddenly jumped out at them. It was almost like their mind was being pulled towards specific memories. After getting the dream nail, they collected essence from the spirit tree. Then they left through the stag station there, but first, they sat down at the bench and rested for a bit. 

' _Strange.'_ The Knight thought. The image of them resting at the bench seemed very vivid now, almost as if they were looking at a picture.

Then the picture moved, and an image of the Hallownest seal, complete with the King’s brand and crest, flashed in their eyes. The wind stopped blowing. The air got much colder, and the bench they were sitting on grew colder as well.

The Knight opened their eyes and looked to their right, where Hornet was sitting only a minute ago.

She was gone.

On the blue tiled ground, there was a glowing piece of paper with an image of a familiar pair of glasses on it, and an open doorway. They looked to their left and saw a bell along with the giant door that accompanied every stag station. Various bells and dreamcatchers littered the ceiling, and faint imprints of ghosts and spirits hovered in the air.

They were in the Resting Grounds.


	7. Chapter 7

It was disorienting, to say the least. The Knight could only look around in a confused sort of awe, their mind trying to make sense of the sudden rush of new senses. It was like their brain was being divided into several parts, and each part was trying to make sense of different things. Like how Hornet, along with the rest of Dirtmouth, seemed to have been replaced by the Resting Grounds. Or how their body seemed notably lighter.

The Knight blinked. Lighter?

They withdrew their hands underneath their cloak and rummaged around. It only took a few seconds before they noticed that they were missing a hefty sum of geo, along with a few of their charms.

That confusion grew into sharp fear when they realized that one of the missing charms was the Voidheart. The charm, bounded to their very soul, was missing. In an instant, the cold air around them dropped to a freezing temperature and the Knight suddenly felt like they were breaking apart. _Why is this happening?_ They thought, running their hand over their chest, tracing the shape of each charm equipped. 

The Mark of Pride, Quick Slash, Wayward Compass, Shaman Stone, and Nailmaster’s Glory. All well and good, except for the fact that there was no Void Heart. They picked at each individual charm over and over again, hoping that for some absurd, inane reason that the Void Heart would appear. Then they could relax and sigh at their own stupid mistake, and continue onwards, to an answer. Yet no matter how many times they checked, that charm, the proof of their reunion with the Void, it would not appear.

As if moving on their own, their hands abruptly broke away from the Knight’s chest and moved to their charm case. They had already opened it once, only to see that a few slots were missing. Why open it again? Could the Void Heart be there? No, that couldn’t be possible. The Void Heart was embedded, infused with their very being. It was a stamp from the Abyss, a permanent mark. No amount of power could have separated them, save for one of a god.

 _'But it’s still MISSING.'_ The Knight thought, bringing their charm case out from underneath their cloak. Missing, so why not check? Perhaps for some reason, the unequippable charm had managed to find itself into the case. And sure enough, when their shaking hands managed to crack open the thin box, they found that the Void Heart was not there. And yet, in it’s place, there was a faintly glowing charm that radiated a bright royal aura.

The Kingsoul.

 _Why?_ Was the only thought that they could formulate. It became very hard to focus - the world around them began spinning again and the small humming that was coming from the charm was louder than anything that they had ever heard. It was louder than the pained shrieks of the Radiance, a vomitting of white noise that somehow managed to mix beautifully with the quiet, calming background music of the Resting Grounds.

…

The Knight practically slammed their charm case shut, stuffing out the glow and sounds of the Kingsoul. And yet that music remained. _'Music?'_

Their head jerked and twisted around. No matter how hard they looked, they could find no likely source for the music. They jumped up from the bench and tried to follow the source of the slow melody that filled the room, but found that it surrounded them equally, perfectly balanced. It was as if they had their own personal orchestra, playing the melancholy tune from inside of their head.

The Knight began pacing around the room. They walked in measured steps, travelling in perfect, consistent paces. Each step echoed in the room at a volume that was barely audible through the music. They walked in circles, and it felt like that at each step they took, they were being taken closer to madness. They tried to count how many laps they made around the room but found that their mind began to wander back to the music and how strangely _familiar_ it was.

It was almost like they had heard it many times before.

_'Stupid. Stop. Calm down.'  
_

With those frazzled words bouncing around in their head, they took one more lap around the room and then left through the door. They jumped down, falling in between the long trail of platforms until they finally landed on the ground. From there, they began walking, each step taking him the exact same distance as they did back at the bench.

Their mind drifted and drifted, until they began to think of nothing. Their mind filled with nothing, empty thoughts that suffocated the music and confusion. It brought an uneasy peace, an anxious calm, and they found themselves unable to think of anything else. It was only a few moments until all of that cold nothing was rudely ripped out from their thoughts when they fell through a hole in the ground.

 _'Why is this here?'_ They thought, lifting themselves up from the dusty floor. Their eyes connected with a lever, and their sluggish mind worked to remember that _they_ had used the switch, and that it had opened the hole in the floor.

They shook their head and jumped down from the platform. Then, they looked to their right - if their memory would serve, then they should remember that that way lead back to a few infected guards and a tomb. The left path would take them to the Blue Lake.

Where they had last seen Quirrel.

A heavy weight rested on their chest. All at once, that old freezing wave of grief and regret was made anew and all the Knight could do was sag his shoulders a little and walk forwards because this sensation was becoming all too familiar to them. They were afraid, more than anything in the world, that they would get used to this sad tumbling and that these feelings would lose their color.

They could scarcely remember their first fight with the Hollow Knight. What was going through their mind back then? What sorts of things and memories were they experiencing with the Hollow Knight? They could only imagine how sharp and deadly the emotions that they had felt were. Why, the difference between then and now was probably so great, that they may as well be an empty vessel again.

 _'Not true_ ,' they thought harshly. After that, the thought that crossed their mind was ‘ _This is a dream.’_

Because, what other explanation was there? What explanation was there for the missing Void Heart, the sudden appearance at the Resting Grounds, the music? What explanation was there for Quirrel, crouching at the ledge of the Blue Lake? With his nail by his side instead of on the sands, and with a blazing, vibrant color that screamed that he was alive, that he was really there?

The Knight found themselves looking at his back. Quirrel’s head perked up and he turned to face them. His eyes lit up with recognition and a tired smile grew on his face.

“Again we meet my short friend. Here at last, I feel at peace.” 

They stared at him silently, stoically. Then with almost no hesitation, they brought out their hand and poked him in the shoulder. It was solid and felt warm, despite the chilling air around them. Their finger bounced back, and it was only then, did the Knight begin to think that maybe, possibly, Quirrel was really there.

“Hm?” He gave them a puzzled stare. “Is there something the matter?”

The Knight stared back, stone faced and unmoving. And then they blinked, and black tears started leaking from the eyes of their mask. They rushed forward and without a second thought, wrapped their short arms around his torso. His weight was so solid, so real, yet unbelievable at the same time. He felt like an impossible anchor amidst a depressed sea of contradictions. Why was he here? Why did he return? How was any of this possible? A hundred and one questions bounced around in their mind, begging to be asked, for the impossible.

“A-Ah, what’s wrong?” Quirrel asked with a faint panic in his voice. “My friend, are you crying? I… What sort of conundrum would cause someone like you to react in this way?”

A shot of anger rips through the Knight’s cloud of relief. What would cause them to react like this? How could he ask something like that? What sort of mad reason did he have to up and vanish for so long, only to return and act like nothing’s happened? It wasn’t fair.

They formulated a memory - Quirrel’s nail stuck on the shores of the lake. At that, they felt Quirrel’s body stiffen up. He emitted a short gasp and drew back from the Knight, face suddenly pale and sickly. “What in the world? What was that? No, furthermore, what was that image? Did you send that to me? How?”

The Knight pointed at Quirrel’s nail. Then, they pointed at the ground.

“... Yes, I saw that.” Quirrel said, putting a hand up to his head and letting out a shuddering breath. His face was still pale. Looking at it, the Knight suddenly found themselves feeling a bit guilty. Even if they had only shown him a single moment, they had put more force into it than what was needed. That one image had probably left him as sick as Hornet was when they had first done this to her.

“But why? Why did you show me that?” Quirrel asked. “This is all very strange, you know. I’m not sure what sort of meaning you’re trying to convey?”

They stared at him incredulously. Was it so hard to realize that what he had done _hurt_ ? Every memory of him was pure agony. They thought that he was _dead_. Why couldn’t he just know? That this one single action had brought them so much pain?

In an almost childish fit, the Knight pointed at him and stomped on the ground. Their hand shook with both anger and nerves. Quirrel stared at them for a few moments and then sighed. “Okay, okay. I… I think I know what you’re trying to say. You’re upset, aren’t you? I guess you care for me a bit more than I realized.”

The Knight’s eye twitched. At the time, Quirrel might as well had been nothing but a tool to them. He helped them, and perhaps they appreciated him for his assistance, but there was nothing else. But ever since that _moment_ , that gain of thoughts, of feelings…

They dipped their head down sadly. Quirrel shifted around a bit before awkwardly wrapping their body in a tense hug. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll stick around for a while longer. Don’t worry.”

…

“There’s one question I need to ask, however.” Quirrel said quietly. The Knight backed away and looked at him with questioning eyes.

“How did you know?” Quirrel asked. “How did you know that I was planning to… erm, leave?”

 _'How did I… know?'_ The Knight tilted their head. What was he saying?

“It seems odd that you would know.” Quirrel said. “It was almost as if you read my mind… you didn’t, did you?”

The Knight only grew more and more confused. What was happening? He was talking as if he hadn’t disappeared yet, as if this was their first time talking at the Blue Lake…

_“Again we meet my short friend. Here at last, I feel at peace.”_

The same.

No, it was all the same, wasn’t it? That was it. And the charms. Void Heart. The Geo. All of it. 

The Knight realized that there was no music here, at the lake.

They found that they weren’t very surprised by this.


	8. Chapter 8

“Erm… Alright, I think I’ve got it this time.” Quirrel handed the Knight a slightly wrinkled parchment, which had a series of bulleted points on it. It was written in cramped handwriting, on the corner of the parchment as if it was an unimportant afterthought. More bulleted lists filled up nearly every single inch of the parchment, however they were all messily scratched out and rendered illegible.

With a crooked finger that was exhausted from writing, Quirrel pointed at the top bullet point and started making his way down the list. “First, you defeated the Hollow Knight, whom contained the infection and was imprisoned in the Temple of the Black Egg. Then, you saw the King’s Brand along with some strange symbols and apparently traveled back in time. After that, you used a special nail to cut into the Hollow Knight’s mind, and kill the physical manifestation of the infection.”

He paused and looked up from the list to glance at the Knight. They didn’t seem to have any issues with his retelling, so he looked back down and continued. “But the same thing happened and you got sent back in time. So you tried to defeat them several more times, but nothing changed. Then, while thinking about a strategy, your mind wandered to the Resting Grounds which resulted in you teleporting here… and you travelled even further back in time, just after you had slain Monomon.”

…

The Knight shrugged and nodded, apparently satisfied with his conclusion. Quirrel sighed and leaned back on the bench that they were sitting at. It had taken several long hours, along with intertwined broadcasts of memories and a small piece of his sanity to try and make sense of what they were trying to tell him.

 _'If only they could write, or better yet, speak!'_ Quirrel thought as he stared up at the ceiling. It truly was peculiar how they were fully capable of reading and drawing detailed maps, and yet when it came to illustration or writing, they were completely inept. It was as if they were created with the sole purpose of being frustrating to communicate with. A solitary creature, one that wasn’t meant to socialize.

_'Time travel… What a ridiculously absurd yet novel concept. Could they really have experienced such a thing? Or is there perhaps another explanation?'_

“The Hallownest Seal…” Quirrel mused. Although only a quiet mutter, his remark sounded like a booming shout to the Knight. Their head jerked up to look at him, eyes wide and curious. “Oh, it’s nothing my friend. It just seems rather strange that you saw this seal at that moment. Perhaps it was some sort of interference from the Pale King himself?”

The Knight winced and shook their head. The intact Kingsoul that they carried was proof that the Pale King, their father, was dead. They had seen his corpse, lifeless and powerless within the White Palace. Why, they had even struck at his body with their nail, hadn’t they? Slashed at him until a crack ran through his skull and the other half of the Kingsoul appeared.

Even if they had not directly killed him… It was yet another death upon dozens that weighed upon them.

“You think otherwise? Well, to be honest, so do I. After all, it _was_ missing his brand. That would actually indicate that he wasn’t involved at all, wouldn’t it?” Quirrel asked. He flipped the parchment over to the back, where a rough sketch was displayed. “Besides, there is still the issue of those strange symbols that accompanied the crest.”

Sandwiched between two lavish drawings of the Hallownest Seal, there was a collection of large yet simple symbols that seemed vaguely familiar. The sight of them prodded something in the back of Quirrel’s mind, but he couldn’t figure out why they seemed recognizable. Whenever he tried to remember, a dull pain flared up in his temples. He closed his eyes and brought the back of his hand up to his forehead. It was cold.

To say he was tired would have been an understatement. He was both physically and mentally exhausted. With the death of Monomon and his reacquired memories plaguing his mind, it had already been too much to bear. And now, with the worries of the Knight being stockpiled onto him, along with the unpleasant sickness of reliving of their memories?

Quirrel reopened one eye and lifted his hand up. His fingers were trembling terribly, and he found himself unable to even straighten them. Every limb in his body was somehow sore and even the dim lightning in the stag station felt too bright.

He felt a light tugging on his arm. It was the Knight - they looked at him, an expression of worry spreading through their expressionless face. Somehow, he managed to crack a smile. It couldn’t hide the dark thick lines under his eyes, nor could it cover up his curled hands. But the sight of it appeared to placate them anyway.

A little bit, at least.

He found his eyes wandering past the Knight, and onto the bell behind them. If his memories (still admittedly foggy) were to be trusted, then the bell would call upon a stag from the deep nest of tunnels that ran through Hallownest. The stag stations used to be widely used by everyone in the kingdom, from all classes of bugs. When the infection began spreading however, the stag stations decayed and the stags themselves were neglected, until finally, all of them perished.

That was what he and most other bugs believed. Apparently, there _was_ one stag left. While wandering, he had stumbled upon many stag stations, several of which were opened. He had rang the bell once based on pure curiosity, and was introduced to the stag personally. He never used them all too much himself though - he much preferred travelling on foot, soaking in all of the wonders that the Hallownest could provide. The gloomy tunnels wherein the stags travelled were, more or less, identical to one another.

 _'If I recall correctly, there are two stations that lead to the City of Tears.'_ Quirrel thought.

“The City of Tears… There’s someone who lives there, if I’m not mistaken.” Quirrel said. “Relic Seeker Lemm, was it? Do you think that perhaps he would be able to assist us with this? I’ve talked to him several times. He seems to know much about history, and is a traveller of many lands.”

Quirrel turned his gaze from the bell back to the Knight, who was staring blankly ahead. “While you may be unable to illustrate your memories, I believe I could provide a decent sketch, even from memory. What do you think, my friend?”

They provided no response, which was to be expected. However, their body remained completely still, and they gave no indication that they had heard him at all. Quirrel blinked and tapped the Knight on one of their horns.”

Nothing. They didn’t even flinch.

“My friend, are you alright?” Quirrel said with an edge of worry in his voice. He placed his hand on their shoulder and gave them a light shake. Their body moved with no resistance, as if they were a ragdoll. “Why aren’t you-”

* * *

“Ah, little ghost. I was thinking about your situation when you startled me.”

The Knight’s head turned to face her in one jerking motion. Their head moved quickly, and with a contrast from their stone-still neck and body. They stared at her for a second before their gaze shifted to look at Elderbug, standing next to the bench. A strange jolt ran through one half of their body, the half in which the Knight was confused, struggling to process the strange warping that they had just felt. The other half was cold and unfeeling. It knew what happened, and knew why it happened.

They didn’t even mean to do it. They were just in such a deep and long silence that their mind couldn’t help but drift. They thought about how bizarre it was that Quirrel was back, and that they just happened to travel back in time. Questions, questions like how? Then answers, in the form of a recent memory. It happened because they thought about it while they were on a bench. They were thinking about Quirrel, and they were on the Dirtmouth bench.

From there, the picture just grew clearer. The quiet, sullen atmosphere and colorless backgrounds. The iron bench, solid yet comfortable and with plenty of space despite the presence of both the Knight themselves and Hornet. The bench. It was that bench that their minds centered on, and from there, the memory grew into a picture-perfect scene.

And when they opened their eyes, here they were. Sans Quirrel, plus Hornet, Elderbug, and a maddeningly familiar somber tune that played in their head. It would have been calming were it not for the fact that such music should have been completely impossible.

They jumped down from the bench in a haste, along with a slight sense of déjà vu. Nearly tripping over their own feet, they sprinted inside of the Dirtmouth stag station and rid the elevator down. Behind them, they heard the rapid footsteps of Hornet. She was following them, but that was fine. They just wanted to check, that’s all.

As soon as they could, they leapt off of the platform and dashed through the air, seeing with vague surprise that the stag was already there. Perhaps their last ride together was to Dirtmouth. They landed neatly on his back, earning a gruff grunt from the old bug. They brought out their map and dangled it over his eyes with one hand. With the other, they pointed at the stag station located in the Resting Grounds.

With another grunt, the stag began running down the halls. The Knight glanced back just in time to see Hornet’s needle impaling the ground, and her body flying towards the entrance of the tunnel. She stopped and stared after them. Guiltily, they raised their hand in a weak goodbye. They hadn’t meant to run off so abruptly, but…

_'I just need to check. Just one check. Sorry, Hornet.'_

This thought barely finished going through their mind when the stag came to a complete stop. The Knight instinctively raised their arm up to their eyes as a sudden but mild blast of light filled their vision. Cautiously, they lowered their arm and looked around - they were at the Resting Grounds.

 _'Already?'_ The Knight looked back at the stag with wonder. Then, confusion, as they realized that they didn’t even remember getting off of the stag in the first place.

“The Resting Grounds... Passengers would come here to conduct rituals for those who had passed on...Not any more though.” The stag says in a deep, gravelly voice. “Perhaps the dead conduct their own rituals now?”

 _'The dead. Yes, Quirrell should not be dead. That’s right.'_ The Knight thinks. With renewed vigor, they ran out of the stag station and leapt all the way down to the ground, landing without a single scratch. They continued on to the direction of the Blue Lake with impatience. ' _Not dead because I saw him. I stopped him. Not dead, not dead.'_

After an eternity, the Knight found themselves standing before the Blue Lake.

Lush green bushes. Fireflies in the air. Beautiful blue waters. Golden sands.

And a pristine shining nail, stabbed into the ground.

The only thought that ran through their mind when they saw this was that they needed to go back.


	9. Chapter 9

Quirrel looked up at the Knight to meet their blank eyes. He cracked a small smile and gestured at the piece of parchment he was holding. “Sorry, but this may take a moment. Organizing everything you’ve shown me is turning out to be quite the hassle, though that’s through no fault of your own.”

It felt more fluid when they knew what they were doing. Within seconds of closing their eyes, they found that they had been able to recall the scene with near-perfect clarity. After the first few times the Knight ‘shared’ their memories with Quirrel, he sat down on the bench to try and recover. Naturally, the Knight sat next to him. That image of them sitting together was all they could see - Not their reunion, not their brief hug, but them sitting on a bench.

 _'The bench,'_ The Knight thought. Every single time they had defeated the Hollow Knight, they ended up back at the bench. All of their apparent travels through time at the same starting and ending point. A bench.

But why? What made these benches so special? They were just old pieces of furniture that were left scattered around Hallownest. There was absolutely no significance to be found in these benches. Perhaps if only the bench inside of the Black Egg had these properties, or if it were idols to the Pale King that allowed them to time travel, then _maybe_ it could make sense. But no, they had to be benches. The more the Knight tried to think about it, the more their head hurt. 

“Does this sound right to you?” The Knight jerked their head up as Quirrel’s voice pulls them out of their head. He was holding out the parchment with an expectant look in his eyes.

Without even looking at what he wrote, they put their hand over his and -

_“Erm… Alright, I think I’ve got it this time.” Quirrel saw himself handing the Knight a slightly wrinkled parchment. Many scratched out lists were on it, most of which were done messily and with a hint of frustration. Evidently, he had to make many revisions to his timeline. It reminded him of his days as a young student, under Monomon’s tutelage._

_“First, you defeated the Hollow Knight, whom contained the infection and was imprisoned in the Temple of the Black Egg. Then, you saw the King’s Brand along with some strange symbols and apparently traveled back in time. After that, you used a special nail to cut into the Hollow Knight’s mind, and kill the physical manifestation of the infection.”_

_The second Quirrel paused briefly, looking up at the Knight, whom remained ever so silent. Apparently this was a good sign, because he continued. “But the same thing happened and you got sent back in time. So you tried to defeat them several more times, but nothing changed. Then, while thinking about a strategy, your mind wandered to the Resting Grounds which resulted in you teleporting here… and you travelled even further back in time, just after you had slain Monomon.”_

The barely used piece of paper tumbles out of his hands, neatly falling in line with the other sheet of paper next to the bench. Apparently those were left behind by a man named Cornifer, who according to the card at the entrance, dealed in maps.

He closes his eyes and rests both of his hands on his knees. After a few deep breaths, he looked at the Knight. Every single time he felt as if he were beginning to figure them out, another curveball would be thrown his way. His dazed mind was already beginning to numb, and that was only partially because of the Knight’s visions. He could practically feel the old, rusty cogs in his head twisting and turning, trying to make sense of the baffling timeline thrown at him.

But what could he do? With Monomon and Uumuu slain, he had reached the end of his journey. Who knew that for his efforts, a new mystery would present itself to him? One that was both intriguing and infuriating at the same time?

The Knight looked as stoic and stone-cold as ever, though now he knew that their expression was just a mask. The brash and sudden emotion they had shown at the Blue Lake served well to prove that, though he had to wonder how such a swift change in demeanor could have happened.

Yes, he _had_ to wonder that, didn’t he? Just as how he had to wonder how the Knight could time travel, or wonder how they could project visions into his mind, or wonder how even after apparently slaying the infection itself, it all just reversed?

All he could do was wonder. 

* * *

The Knight stared at him, anxiety filling their chest. It had been nearly ten minutes, and other than a few glances at their direction, Quirrel had been completely still, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Part of them wanted to tug on his arm and bring him back to reality. It was silly, but what if Quirrel just faded away? What if he left them behind again, and they ended up lost and alone?

They shook their head. Even as if such a thing _could_ happen, they wouldn’t be alone. They could just think about this very moment, and they would find Quirrel right next to them. Or they could think about Dirtmouth again, and find Hornet by their side.

_'I’m okay.'_

The harsh pounding reverberating across their entire body calmed.

_'Quirrel and Hornet can help.'_

Their nausea lessened.

_'It’s-'_

“Those symbols you showed me earlier. The ones next to the crest.”

They glanced at Quirrel.

“I know someone who lives in the City of Tears. In fact, you may know of him as well. I believe his name is Lemm?” Quirrel tilts his head up to the ceiling. “To be perfectly honest, no matter how I rack my brain, I can’t think of anyway to even _begin_ to solve your mystery. But perhaps Lemm could assist? He is a knowledgeable bug.”

Lemm. That name rang a few bells in the vessel’s mind. They recalled unloading a ton of artifacts at their shop in exchange for geo. If anyone were to know about cryptic symbols, it would be him, wouldn’t it? In fact, he might be the only person left in the entire kingdom who even bothered to study old relics anymore.

The Knight hopped off of the bench and gestured to the stag bell. Quirrel nodded and walked up next to them as they struck their nail at the bell, causing that sharp ringing noise to echo throughout the room. Only a few seconds pass before the stag’s pounding footsteps can be heard. Just a moment later, he appeared before them, along with clouds of dust kicked up from his sudden arrival.

“Hello there!” Quirrel says cheerfully over the old stag’s raspy breaths. “Would you be so kind as to take us to the City of Tears? More specifically, the King’s station.”

The stag stared at them for a second before letting out a low chuckle. “Ah, the little one has a friend? And a talking one at that? It’s been so long since I’ve had _two_ passengers on me. Well, the King’s station you say? Hop on and I will gladly take you there.”

“You have my gratitude.” Quirrel climbed on top of the stag and sits cross-legged on the front chair of the saddle. The Knight jumped up and makes a smooth landing onto the seat just behind him. At that, the stag jolts forward into the dark tunnels.

Just like their last ride, it seemed as if only a few seconds had passed before the Knight found themselves suddenly standing in the King’s station with no recollection of how long it took for them to arrive, or how they got off of the stag. Quirrel was standing next to them but seemed to have not noticed the anomaly.

“Thanks again.” Quirrel said to the stag. He then looks down at the Knight with a small smile. “Well, let’s go then. Wouldn’t want to come all this way to only find that his store’s closed for the day, right?”

The Knight contemplated whether or not they should try to bring up what just happened. Would it even be worth the effort? They couldn’t think of many ways to say " _I think that whenever I ride a stag, I somehow lose all memories of 99% of our ride as well as my memories of getting to the ground’_ without any words. They didn’t want to try and jam their thoughts into his mind either, especially for something so seemingly trivial - a sick, twisted feeling of guilt always rose up in their chest whenever they did that. 

“Um, are you alright?” 

They jumped and hastily nodded. They quickly strode past him and towards the direction of Lemm’s shop. Quirrel stared at them for a bit before sighing and rushing to catch up to them. 

He wasn’t afraid to admit that he was worried about him. Really, the Knight might have been his only friend left. Most of everyone he was ever close with had either fled or succumbed to the infection. And of course Uumuu and Monomon had both died… partially by his own hand.

The thought sent a shiver through his spine. Not for the first time, he wondered if recovering his memories really was a good thing. If given the choice, he would do everything the same over again - he had regrets, but he had learned to live with them. Still though, he couldn’t help but miss being so blissfully ignorant, spending days wandering the kingdom, rediscovering everything and being too engrossed with his discoveries to realize that he was so, _so_ alone.

Well, not _completely_ alone. The Knight had been a recurring figure, hadn’t they? Even if they didn’t talk, they had still proved to be a welcome sight whenever they met. He couldn’t really say the same to anyone he had met in Hallownest. If the Knight were to somehow drop dead, right here, right now, then he would no longer have a reason to remain.

Was that pathetic? Depressing? ‘ _Maybe. But that just about sums up the current state of Hallownest anyway, doesn’t it?’_ Quirrel thought. But as soon as those words went through his mind, he regretted them. After all, who was _he_ of all people to so harshly judge this kingdom and its inhabitants? It may be in ruins, but that didn’t really matter at the moment, did it? No, that was just how things were these days. 

Ahead of him, he sees the Knight slow to a stop in front of a sign. He slows down and eventually halts right beside him. “That sign… So, Lemm should be just above us, hm?” Quirrel says, trying to hide the sounds of his labored breathing. Age had not treated him kindly ever since his memories were restored.

They nodded and moved to stand in the elevator that would take them up. Quirrel stood next to them and hit the switch with his nail, prompting the elevator to rise.

“Right then.” Quirrel said once they stop. “Let’s see if he can help us, shall we?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ughhhh i hate this chapter :(((((. Posting it anyway cuz i dont wanna keep rewriting it but ughhhh

Lemm stared at the parchment for a full ten seconds before rolling his eyes and passing it back to Quirrel. It had the symbols ‘ **Game Completion** ’ and ‘ **Percentage** ’ written on them, amongst others. “Do I look like the type for jokes to you? I won’t pay you a cent for this chicken scratch. “

“N-No, you misunderstand.” Quirrel said. “I just need your help deciphering this. I’m not looking to sell it to you.”

Lemm shook his head. “I’ve uncovered countless numbers of ancient languages, in and out of Hallownest. I’ve discovered at least a dozen from journals found in the City of Tears alone. I even helped decrypt one of them. And _that_ doesn’t look anything like I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Well, could you perhaps look at it for a bit longer? I’m sure you will recall something if you-”

“Don’t waste my time.” Lemm sniped. “Either show me a real artifact, or get out.”

The Knight raised their hand from beneath Lemm’s counter. He raised a brow and looked down. His eyes widened slightly in recognition. “Ah. I didn’t notice you there. Are you with this bug? I wasn’t aware that you were fond of such company.”

They shrugged and withdrew their arms beneath their cloak. After a few seconds, they brought out two large black stones with some sort of carvings in them - one in each hand, and placed them on the counter. Lemm’s breath hitched as soon as he saw them.

“Wha- Arcane Eggs? It’s rare enough to own one of them, but two? You’re quite the talented collector, aren’t you? First, all of those King Idols and now, these?” Lemm asked. “In any case, I’m glad that you’ve brought something worth my time. I’ll give you a small fortune for them - 2400 geo should be fair, no?”

The Knight firmly shook their head.

“Hmph. Fine then, I’ll bump it to 2700.” Lemm rolled his eyes and brought out a hefty bag from under his counter.

They shook their head again.

“... No? You’re lucky enough to find someone willing to buy them for so much. I’m likely the only one in all of Hallownest who would pay over 2000. You realize that, right?” Lemm asked incredulously. 

They stared at him unflinchingly.

“3000, and no higher!” Lemm snaps.

The Knight took the parchment from Quirrel’s hand and shoved it at Lemm’s face.

“What? What are you pulling here?”

“I think,” Quirrel said, covering up a smile with one hand. “That they are offering those eggs in exchange for you to take another look at these symbols.”

“Gah! What a nuisance.” Lemm rolled his eyes and snatched the two eggs from the counter as well as the paper from their hands. “Fine. I’ll take another look at it. But don’t be disappointed if I don’t find anything. Like I said, these scripts are like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“And I’ve been in the game for a _long_ while.” He muttered as he walked to his storeroom.

Quirrel glanced down at the Knight, who seemed satisfied with the transaction. “Clever move you pulled there, I have to admit. But what if he really doesn’t find anything? I don’t want to be a pessimist, but it seems like a distinct possibility.”

They simply shrugged in return. It was a nonchalant gesture, but he could see that his words made the vessel nervous. Their body seemed to be shaking just slightly and they kept shifting their weight from one leg onto the other.

He _had_ to know something, right? If he didn’t, then what could they do? The Knight doubted that anyone else would be able to decipher them. Anyone else in Hallownest, at least. And he couldn’t leave. Never. He would sooner die than leave Hallownest…

 _‘But why? Why shouldn’t I leave?’_ They thought. Now there was an idea - what if they could escape this loop by leaving Ha-

Hundreds of images flashed in their mind. The Black Egg Temple. The Hollow Knight. The Infection. The Radiance. One after another, they all hammered themselves into the Knight’s mind. They shivered and squeezed their eyes shut, as if that would help. They could feel the beginnings of a painful headache start to form. 

_'stopstopstopstopstopstop'_

An icy chill settled on them. The headache quickly grew until it felt like their mask was shrinking, crushing the void within it. Eventually, it became difficult to even stand and impossible to think. An incredibly loud screeching sound was-

“Oh, he’s returned.” Quirrel mutters to the Knight. “And he’s brought a few things. Good news, I hope?”

They blinked sluggishly and looked up. Sure enough, Lemm had returned, bearing a thoughtful expression and a box filled with various objects.

“It appears… that I have other artifacts that bear the same symbols as the ones you have shown me.” Lemm admitted begrudgingly. “I got these quite a long time ago, from a _moth_. For free, if you can believe it. I suppose I just never got around to working on decrypting them though.”

“Did you by chance get a translation key?” Quirrel asked

“Of course not. Only some scripts.” Lemm said, holding up a large carved rock which seemed to have been broken off of a tablet. The symbols ‘ **May your hearts st** ’ were imprinted on it.“The scripts have more writing similar to the one you showed me, and the stones are the same, except carved instead of written.”

“A moth, hm? Truly a rare sight.” Quirrel said. “Where did the moth get these?”

“I believe he mentioned something about a ‘Shrine of Believers’.” Lemm shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such a place, at least outside of Hallownest. I haven’t strayed too far from this city since arriving though. Perhaps the rude wanderer recognizes the name?”

The Knight stared blankly at one of the parchment papers from the box and shook their head. It read ‘ **Tiso Spencer** ’.

“Do you think you can decrypt these texts, Lemm?” Quirrel asked. He put the paper back in the box.

“Hmph. With so little clues?” Lemm scoffed. “Perhaps. But it would take decades. And even then, it would likely not be completely accurate, given the miniscule amount of material we have. I would also have to receive assistance from my colleagues.”

Decades. The Knight shook their head in anguish. They felt like they couldn’t wait another _day_ , let alone decades. The soft tugs on their soul would become harsh pulls, and then torture. Sooner or later, they would go insane. They pointed at the box and then at Lemm.

“Why, you’re quite the brat after all, aren’t you?” Lemm asked, glaring at the vessel. “Do you know how much effort goes into decoding an ancient language? It’s near impossible, unless you happen to have some sort of Rosetta Ore. Even with one, it would still be a ludicrously difficult endeavor. Even with Wanderer's Journals, which are written in a similar language to ours, it takes immense work to decrypt them. And in the end, it's only still a remote guess as to what they actually read.”

“Well, would it help if we provided more text?” Quirrel asked. “We only transcribed a small fraction of what was available to us.”

Lemm sighed. “If you _do_ have more of the source material, then yes. It would speed up the process. However, it would still take several years. And anyway, all I agreed to was just taking another look at your parchment. I don’t know how many days I have left in this god-forsaken world, but I’m not going to spend them deciphering a language that I have no interest in.”

“Hey, come on now.” Quirrel protested. “Didn’t you say that you’ve done this kind of thing before?”

“No, I only said that I’ve _helped_ decrypt a language. The bulk of my experience lies in the initial discovery and recovery of them.” Lemm clarified. “Besides, my forte is in gleaming information from relics and artifacts.”

 _'Useless.'_ The Knight takes a step back from the counter. Void particles floated off their body and hovered above them. The room was spinning. ' _Dead end. For nothing.'_

“Wha- Hey, what are you doing?” Lemm asked. “What are those things doing, coming out of you? They better not damage any of my artifacts, or-”

They quickly turned around and dashed out of the shop. A large _clang_ echoed throughout the halls as they crashed through the signpost right outside. It didn’t slow them down however - they just kept running, paying no heed to any of their surroundings.

They were tired, so tired. Tired of _this_. Failure, crushing disappointment, everything. It was just the same, over and over again like a cycle. Ever since they first woke up on that _bench_ , it’s been nothing but agonizing pain. Every time they allowed themselves to get their hopes up, to believe that he could win, he’s been let down.

It wasn’t even surprising anymore. Of course it wasn’t. Why would they expect anything else? They were _made_ to hold no thoughts, no feelings, no will. So it shouldn’t be surprising that they would remain a constant failure, even when others tried to help. It seemed like as soon as they inherited the Hollow Knight’s thoughts and gained these accursed feelings, things had been on a downward spiral.

_'I hate it. Hate hate hate hate hate hate. Why why why? Why me? I hate this. I don’t want it anymore.'_

Despite these thoughts ramming themselves into the Knight’s brain, they could still feel that _tightening_ in their chest, like something’s crushing them. They could still feel the horrible weight settle in and the hot, stinging tears of void that threatened to spill out of their mask.

They’ve experienced this so many times now so why does it still feel like this? Why does it still feel like it was their first time? Their hurt was so fresh. Was this how other bugs felt all the time? Was this really what it meant to feel? To lift the suppression on their thoughts and experience emotional freedom?

No. No, that couldn’t be true. There had to be something wrong with them. There had to be. Had to be. Had to be. There was something wrong with them. Something terrible. They were _wrong_. A failure since birth. That’s why he was discarded by their father. That was the reason, wasn’t it? They were just a tragic mistake, like all the others.

' _This again. Please stop.'_

Yes, there it was again. The numb hatred and self-pity they always felt. They were so predictable. It was a pattern. There was no excuse for them to not feel used to this by now. There was no excuse for them to have not built some sort of resistance, to not have a way to fight back.

Oh. That was it. _'That was it!'_

They couldn’t fight back. They just couldn’t. Now, there was the answer. It hit them like an explosion, forcing them to stop running. They stared down at their trembling arms. That was why they couldn’t adapt to their thoughts. That was why it always hurt so much. That was why they felt so helpless. That was why this kept happening _over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again_.

It was because they were too weak to fight back. 

Too weak.

It was funny. They’ve single-handedly cleared out every trial in the Colosseum of Fools. They’ve killed the core of the Infection. They’ve killed countless hordes of infected bugs. They defeated the Hollow Knight.

No, wait. That was wrong too. When they defeated them, the Hollow Knight had left behind terrible things. Free will and free thought. Those things had invaded them, tricking the Knight into thinking that these were good things. That these were gifts. Now, these things were in them. Like circulating poison, or a parasite.

The Knight shuddered.

_'I need to stop thinking. I need to become a pure vessel.'_


	11. INTERLUDE

She frowned and clicked ‘OK’.

She tried to launch Hollow Knight again, but was met with the same error box: ‘The ‘hollow_knight_Data’ folder is corrupt and cannot be opened’.

It was only a few days ago when she finished the game. It was pretty fun, definitely one of the better indie titles out there. It didn’t take too long to finish though. After only about twelve hours, she had managed to kill the three dreamers, and it only took another half hour to beat the final boss.

Now that she thought about it, _that_ was probably the lowest point of the game. After all she had gone through and all the build up, the final battle with the Hollow Knight was surprisingly anti-climatic. It wasn’t even that hard, at least compared to the other boss fights in the game, like Nightmare King Grimm.

After sitting through the final cutscene of the Knight being chained as well as the (unskippable) credits, she had promptly closed the game and uninstalled it. There wasn’t any deeper meaning behind that action of course - that was just what she did to all games she finished. Why keep the games installed if she had already finished them? It wasn’t as if she would ever play them again. Might as well free up some memory on her computer.

So it was rather strange when one day, when scrolling through her Steam library, she had found it. Hollow Knight. Right there, under _Grand Theft Auto V_ and above _Insurgency_. Instead of being greyed out, it was being displayed in plain white text, which meant that it was installed on her computer.

It was only out of pure curiosity that she had tried to run it. She hadn’t really even thought about it.

 _‘Did I forget to uninstall it or something?’_ She thought. _‘Whatever. I guess I’ll just delete it now.’_

She right clicked on the game and clicked on ‘ **Properties** ’. Then, she clicked on the ‘ **Local Files** ’ tab and hovered her mouse over ‘ **Uninstall Game** ’. She was about to click on it, but she hesitated for a second. Then two. Then three.

Why was she hesitating? Not only were the files apparently corrupt, but she had already finished the game. It wasn’t as if she were missing anything other than maybe collectibles and shallow side content.

…

She quickly moved her mouse away from the button and opened Google Chrome. In the search bar, she hastily typed ‘how many endings does hollow knight have?’

Three endings.

She sighed, feeling relieved for no apparent reason. It was as if she were hoping that she had more to do. As if she were holding out for an excuse to play the game again. She didn’t know why - Hollow Knight was good, but it wasn't _great_ , at least to her. Even so, it somehow came as a relief to know that she was missing endings.

Closing out of the browser, she went back to the game properties and clicked on ‘ **Verify Integrity of Game Files** ’. A new box popped up with a throbber animation along with the words ' **Verifying**.’

 _‘That should take care of the error.’_ She thought. Now, all she had to do was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief interlude/mini chapter.  
> No, this isn't a self-insert lol


	12. Chapter 11

  
  


_'It hurts.'_

' _It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts It hurts It hurts It hurts It hurts It hurtsIthurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsihurtsITHURTS MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP'_ _  
_

A massive blob of pulsating, boiling infection spalshes across their face. It burned like acid. The thickly oozing liquid slowly dripped down their mask, eating away at it while leaving behind thin trails. Several holes were present on their cape from the countless -

The Knight's body was abruptly sent flying as a giant nail slammed into their torso, adding a new tear to their cape. Before they could even get up, a pillar of infected fire shot up from the ground, engulfing their entire body in flames. Their vision turned black. Colorful spots danced in their eyes.

They couldn't breathe.

It had to be done. They hated it. They wanted it to stop. But it had to be done.

They recieved these ~~gifts curses blessings~~ emotions from the Hollow Knight. They killed them. KILLED. They KILLED them so many times. They lost count.

Time and time again. Over and over. Their sibling was slaughtered, and for nothing. This was only fair. It was retribution, penance, whatever. And the Knight was _certain_ that if they did this, then everything would be normal again. What other choice did they have? Once everything went back to normal, they could kill the Radiance again and everything would be happily ever after and they could stop going back again and again and everything is going to be just fine, thank you very much.

That was all they wanted. Everything they could have ever wanted. They dreamt of that moment.

Of course, that wasn't really true. But it was. They wanted them all to be alive again. Wanted it so badly that it felt like their chest was tearing itself apart. Quirrel, Myla, Cloth, everyone. They wanted for the infection to just go away, for a nice peaceful existence where they didn't have to murder dozens of bugs on a daily basis. But that wasn't them. They weren't thinking that. THEY DIDN'T WANT THAT.

The Hollow Knight. The Hollow Knight wanted that. Everything belonged to them.

It was the Hollow Knight who cared about all of this.

It was the Hollow Knight who wanted to seal away the infection.

They were just stealing their thoughts, that's all.

_'Take it back take it back take it back take it back take it back i don't want this take it back you can have it please tkae it back just kill me i deserve it kill me kill me kill me just kill me already please hurry hurry'_

Through their increasingly wavering vision, they saw the Hollow Knight charging up a lunging attack. Good. Maybe that would be enough to finally end all of this,r estore these thoughts and emotions. And if not? Then fine. They would return anyway.

Death was meaningless.

The Hollow Knight shot forwards, angling their needle down so that the tip shot straight towards the center of the Knight's mask. The vessel braced themselves, expecting to feel another bout of burning pain. But instead, an incredibly cold sensation overtook them. It swallowed the agonizing fire that pulsated through their body and replaced it with a dull, frozen numbing.

Everything turned dark.

...

A different dark then. Sigils of light. A bench, but not really. They were back.

...

They blinked a few times. They opened their charm case and took off _Thorns of Agony_ , replacing it with _Wayward Compass._ After some thinking, they also decided to remove _Mark of Pride_ for _Grubsong_ and _Grimmchild_. They hopped off the bench and left the temple, not looking back. They were headed towards Kingdom’s Edge, the least explored area of their map. Perhaps they would be able to find an undiscovered boss, or more vessel fragments.

After that, who knew? That was just where they had decided to go first. There was so much to do.

* * *

_Everything was so cold._

_Everything was so bright._

_..._

_They turned around. Was that the Hollow Knight? What happened? They weren't at the bench? They moved closer to their sibling, ready to draw their nail at any moment, in case of a sudden attack. But as they got closer, they realized the Hollow Knight didn't seem to care. In fact, they just stared past them, as if they were invisible._

_Their plan hadn't worked - The frightened confusion running through them was evident of that. So why hadn't they just awoken at the bench? Every other time they were killed..._

...

_No._

_They hadn't been killed before, had they? Whenever they defeated the Hollow Knight, they would become the new vessel for the infection and become trapped in the chamber.  
_

_But they wouldn't die._

_When they fought the Radiance and delivered the final blow, their mask and body were shattered._

_But they didn't die.  
_

...

_So._

_This. This was death? They were dead? That didn't make any sense. They were still here, still with movement, still in front of the Hollow Knight. How could this be?_

_A familiar pur brought them out of their thoughts. Quickly turning around, they saw the quickly shrinking figures of the Grimmchild and... a vessel? That wasn't possible, and yet... That mask and cape. There was no mistaking it. There was another vessel here, in the Temple of the Black Egg._

_And to top it off, the Grimmchild was with them? It shouldn't be able to be summoned by anyone, save for themselves. With piqued curiosity, they started to float towards the fading silhouettes.  
_

_Float?_

_They looked down at themselves, keeping their momentum all the while. It was hard to see for some reason. Everything was so... blurry. Bright, yet dark at the same time. Their body looked to be nothing more than a black spot of writhing mass._

_And everything was so bright. Too bright, in fact. It reminded them of the Radiance. Except it was warm then, unlike the frigid temperatures here. Much warmer, comfortable even.  
_

_This was wrong. So wrong. Where was the Grimmchild going? They were outside now, though they almost didn't realize. Everything was just so hard to see. It felt like they had stared into a lamp for hours on end._

_'Follow the red. The red, white, gray. Why is there orange? A husk?'_

_It stopped. The vessel stopped._

_The Knight came closer, until the finer details of the vessel became clearer. They had a familiar mask, with a mothwing cloak wrapped tightly around their body and the Grimmchild hovering above their head. The dark, expressionless pair of eyes they carried were staring down at a spread out map, one adorned with various pins._

_The cloak, the pins, the map, the Grimmchild... No, it was theirs. It belonged to the Knight._

_It belonged to THEM._

_No._

_nonononononononno._

_They looked down again. Of course. Of course, of course. They weren't dead. They weren't alive either. They were just. The ghost, the shade. Why did they do this? Why couldn't they have waited? Or something? Anything?_

_No, nono. They couldn't stay like this, a pitiful shade wandering Hallownest. Get back, 'give me back my body that's mine my shell my stuff I need it back I'm sorry please let me try again'  
_

_If only the Hollow Knight had been pure. 'If only **I**_ _were pure_ _.'  
_

_If only the Radiance hadn't come. If only, if only, they hadn't existed. If only so many bugs could have escaped death._

_This wouldn't have been a problem, then.  
_

_Was it so hard? Was it too much to ask? They wanted to scream, but couldn't. They didn't even have a voice to speak with. They shouldn't even be having these thoughts. They never asked to be born, to be one of the only survivors of their kin, to seal the Radiance away._

_They never asked to have these feelings in them, constantly jumping and spiking in their_ _  
chest, never asked for itt o hurt this much, for this despair.  
_

_And for the love of everything why couldn't it just STOP he just wanted it to STOP to STOP these sheer falls of anxiety and self-loating from consuming their every pitiful thought and action to just STOP the agony that came with every crospe they stepped across or every friend they lost in this forsaken kingdom.  
_

_But complaining wouldn't do anything, nor would the self-pity. No, they had to keep going forward. They HAD to._

_Reclaim their body, then keep going. Just keep going, that's all.  
_

* * *

The Vessel gleefully hacked away at the training dummy next to Oro's hut. The dummy was dressed up as some sort of strange bug, one they hadn't seen before. Well, whatever it was, it was pretty entertaining to whack at.

They continued to hit it with their nail, blissfully ignorant of the strange look that the Grimmchild was giving them, as well as the shade of the Knight, stalking them from afar.

_*BANG*_

Without warning, two Great Hoppers fell from the ceiling and began to attack them.The Grimmchild yelped in surprise, shooting a fireball into the wall in a knee-jerk reaction.

The Vessel was hit, and in a moment of sheer panic, they began to spam descending dark. Thankfully, their soul meter was nearly full, so they were able to easily clear out the Hoppers. Their efforts were rewarded with some geo, and after a moment of silent contemplation, they hit the dummy once more before turning around and walking away.

Meanwhile, the shade quickly retrated to the background as to not be spotted. They had long since given up on trying to figure out what the Knight was doing. It was rather disconcerting, watching their body being piloted around to do inane acts with no apparent purpose or sense of direction. But they couldn't do anything about it.

No, they had to be careful this time. It was enough. 

They had to take back their body.

Then, they had to become pure. And only then will they be able to finally seal away the infection.

All they had to do was wait.


End file.
